Bend, Not Break
by sisirongana
Summary: In which Miranda Lawson really likes rules, and Commander Darby Shepard couldn't care less about them. Miranda/FShep, oneshot.


Bend, Not Break

_AN: Wrote this while working on a longer Miranda/FShep piece and completely forgot about it. Nonetheless, happy holidays to everyone! Whatever you celebrate, whoever you are, I hope you have a wonderful holiday season. Please let me know what you think, as a review would be the perfect Christmas gift for an attention-starved writer. :) Thanks once again for reading, and I hope you enjoy. You guys are the best._

_Disclaimer: Unbetaed. I own nothing._

_._

.

.

Miranda Lawson really likes rules. The structure they give, the boundaries they set – she loves it all. Even the unspoken ones, like _don't pry into other crewmembers' personal lives_. No one says anything about it and it's not in the regulation handbook, but it's simply understood. Miranda finds this fascinating.

Everyone aboard the Normandy absolutely adores the Commander, whether they say so or not. The ones that want to date her…well, protocol has been explicit with rules about fraternization, and everyone already knows that the Commander is with Dr. T'Soni. No one discusses it of course, because it would break the unspoken rules. And there's no need to, especially because no one really cares (save for the ones waiting to pounce should the Commander's relationship come to an end). But nonetheless, there are bigger issues at hand, such as how to prepare for the inevitable arrival of the Reapers: bigger issues that override the gossip of who's dating whom, who's sleeping with whom.

Of course, this all gets shot to hell when Liara T'Soni actually _breaks up_ with the savior of the galaxy and the Normandy transforms into a hotbed of hushed gossip.

It's confusing, really. After Shepard reunites with Liara on Ilium and does her a few favors, she moves on to her mission to stop the Collectors. Everyone attributes the Commander's increasing quietness and solitude as stress over the mission, if they even notice.

However, when they manage to blow up the Collectors' base without a single death of the Commander's crew and Darby practically spits in the Illusive Man's face, they all sort of her expect to brighten up. But she gets quieter still, always looking like something's on her mind. Perhaps it's the imminence of the Reapers' attack, but the melancholy has only been this obvious since she reunited with Liara. When the crew puts the pieces together, they're all hopeful when Shepard takes some old data the Illusive Man had given her about the Shadow Broker and brings it to Liara.

Everyone can tell something good happened at the Shadow Broker's base on Hagalaz, because afterwards, the Commander nearly floats around the Normandy with a pleased little smirk on her face, and Liara shows up for a tour and presumably to re-enact scenes from Vaenia with the Commander. Perhaps that would cheer the Commander up.

But when the asari leaves with unshed tears in her eyes and the most devastated expression on her face, there seems to be a collective unspoken _"Oh fuck, what did Shepard do?" _among the members of the crew, and everyone can tell something bad happened up in the captain's quarters. Because to be honest, while Darby was the most brilliant and influential military leaders of their time, she wasn't the best at emotional conversations.

Shepard's personal squad gathers in the briefing room after two days of the Commander pretending to have the flu (as revealed conspiratorially by Dr. Chakwas) and hiding out in her cabin.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on?" Jack asks, crossing her arms. "Shepard's up in her room acting like a pussy. It's not like her."

"The Commander's business is her own," responds Jacob defensively, his back ramrod straight.

Mordin paces back and forth in contemplation. "Would typically be the case, but the Commander is functioning at levels severely below normal. Estimated percent is currently 42.5%. Could affect mission performance. Not good for morale. Intervention necessary. Perhaps—"

Clearing her throat and placing a hand on her hip, Miranda interrupts. "Jacob and Mordin are both right. We shouldn't pry, but we can't let the Commander go on like this."

Jack sneers. "So the cheerleader's been promoted to Captain Obvious?" Ignoring Miranda's narrowed eyes and barely hidden huff of exasperation, the tattooed biotic continues, shrugging. "I say we let Shepard deal with whatever bullshit she's got on her own. Nothing a few shots of ryncol can't handle."

"Or a good fight," interjects Grunt, toying with his pistol.

"I believe some meditation will serve the Commander well," Samara says calmly.

The cacophony of various opinions grows increasingly louder while Thane observes mutely from the corner, and Miranda grows exponentially more frustrated.

"Enough!" The former Cerberus agent shouts, and everyone goes quiet. "I'll just go speak to her and get to the bottom of this," she states. "Dismissed."

"Who put this bitch in charge?" grouses Jack as everyone else turns to shuffle out of the briefing room.

"Regulation 285.24A, Section 11.5C," Miranda recites sweetly to Jack's retreating back. "Remember, aboard this ship, 'this bitch' is second-in-command."

Miranda Lawson really, _really _likes rules.

.

.

.

Later, Miranda isn't sure what she expects when she heads up to Shepard's cabin, but she sure as hell doesn't expect _this._

Darby's draped across her desk, head buried in her arms and several empty bottles and shot glasses littering the table. Bloodshot blue eyes blearily focus on Miranda's form as the door whizzes open and Shepard lazily lifts her head.

"Heeeey," says Shepard, a dumb watery smile gracing her lips and a post-it from her desk sticking to her forehead.

"Oh god," Miranda mutters, hurriedly entering the cabin and rushing over to the woman. "You're bloody wasted!"

Darby hiccups, looking mournful. "I know."

"Commander, this is utterly unacceptable!" Miranda says, horrified. "You've been up here for two days and we need to prepare for the arrival of the Reapers. I know the past couple of days have been rough and stressful with the Collectors, and I believe something happened with Dr. T'Soni, but—"

"She broke up with me!" Shepard drunkenly moans, slumping further in her seat.

Miranda blinks. "I thought…but _she_ left the Normandy crying," she protests.

"Hah!" Darby barks with a bitter expression, then her eyes soften and Miranda is mortified to see that her bottom lip is almost trembling. "Said she didn't wanna, she still loves me, but…" Another hiccup. "But she can't deal with the distance. With losing me again."

Miranda's still a little speechless, and her heart is inexplicably in her throat. "I…I'm sorry, Commander." Shepard just _looks _at her in this way that Miranda can't decipher, so she swallows nervously, placing a gentle hand on her leader's shoulder. "Come on, you should rest."

Darby tries angrily to shrug Miranda off, but her reflexes are too slow. "I don't wanna rest," she says petulantly. "It's me, isn't it? I know it's my fault," she tells Miranda, as though she is Liara herself. She looks like a kicked puppy that's insanely intoxicated.

Miranda says nothing, but she helps lift Shepard to her feet. A heavy, strong arm is draped across Miranda's shoulder as she and Darby stumble towards the bed, and the only sounds in the cabin are the shuffling of the Commander's feet and her labored breathing.

"I do still care about her," she whispers, as Miranda settles her into the bed and sits on the edge, laying the blankets over her. "But she said it wasn't the same. That we were different. It's my fault… I didn't want to but I couldn't help it, and she noticed it anyway. She said that we were different, but she only meant that _I _was. A part of me will always love her, and she said she knew that. But she also said that…that-"

"Commander," Miranda interrupts, because Shepard's already said too much, and because there is an inexplicable, growing pressure in her chest she can't understand, especially when Shepard is _so close_ to her with her overwhelming scent and soulful eyes-

But Shepard looks surprisingly sober for a moment, terrified and angry and defeated. "…That she knew I loved someone else more, no matter how much I loved her."

Miranda's breath catches in her throat as Shepard's calloused, warm hand reaches up to trail her fingers down Miranda's cheek, and everything seems to click into place.

Before, it certainly wasn't like the former Cerberus agent never thought about it, especially after she and the Commander actually warmed up to each other, and Miranda stopped being such a hardass. There was just something about Shepard that was simply and utterly magnetic, and Miranda was helpless. But Miranda knew it probably couldn't be more than a little crush, which was ridiculous enough for a woman of her age. But what was even more ridiculous was to question one's sexuality in her mid-thirties, so Miranda shrugged it off. Besides, fraternization was more than an unspoken rule: it was actually written down.

But eventually, inevitably, _presently_, Miranda simply can't shrug it off.

Not after Shepard helps her save Oriana, and encourages her to talk to the little sister she's always loved but hadn't spoken to until then. Not after Shepard is the first person that truly sees her as something more than a tool, sees her as a human that makes human mistakes despite all of her perfection. Not after it's Shepard that dives after her when the human Reaper forces all of the platforms to collapse and risks her life, again, to save Miranda's. And not after it's Shepard's hand that won't let her go as she dangles hundreds of feet in the air, and it's Shepard's arms that are lifting the crushing slab of metal off of Miranda's body and helping her up.

She _can't_ shrug it off, even though she'll definitely regret this in the morning and this is a complete violation of at least seven different rules, but she can't stop herself. Not when Shepard's finally touching her, pulling her on top of her, and looking at her like she always wanted her to, tugging her down for a kiss Miranda just _knew_ would be amazing, warm, and perfect, and –

Abruptly over, apparently, because Shepard goes limp and Miranda's utterly surprised to hear a fucking _snore._

"Damn it, Shepard," hisses Miranda, but she can't stay mad, especially when Darby looks kind of cute, passed out drunk and clutching her arms around her so tightly she can't leave, even if she wanted to. "Ass," the dark-haired woman whispers fondly, pressing a kiss to Shepard's forehead and settling down to sleep in her arms.

.

.

.

"Oh, fuck."

The voice is gravelly and rough, and the sound of it, as well as its accompanying groan, is what wakes Miranda up from a blissful sleep. The harsh light of morning as well as reality snap her to attention, however, and she sits up rapidly, blinking.

Miranda finds herself silently agreeing with the sentiment.

Why the hell did she stay? Shepard was drunk, and Miranda knew she was going to regret this, because Shepard probably wouldn't remember and would be wondering why the hell her second-in-command was in her bed, fully clothed and snuggled up next to her. Blue eyes focus on Miranda, and she freezes, because if Shepard _did_ remember, she probably didn't even mean what she said and she'd have to let Miranda down all gently and pathetically-

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry," Shepard says, wide-eyed.

And there it is. Miranda's face falls, because she fucking _knew_ that she would regret it. But if there was one thing Miranda Lawson knew how to do, it was how to save face and look like she had some semblance of control. "It's all right, Commander, don't apologize," she says formally, like she didn't just spend the night making out with her superior officer and then staying in her bed, like Shepard wasn't breaking her heart by apologizing and saying everything was a drunken mistake. "You were upset and unbelievably drunk, so—" _So everything you said wasn't true, and you don't care about me at all, _Miranda wants to say, but Shepard interrupts her.

"What?" Darby looks decently confused, scrubbing a hand through mussed black hair. "That's no excuse for fucking _falling asleep_ while I'm doing the one thing I've wanted to do for months," she protests.

Miranda blinks, and if it didn't sound so unbelievably stupid even just to _think _it, she would say it felt like her heart was soaring. "Oh," she says dumbly.

"You didn't think I was just saying all of that because I was drunk, did you?" asks Shepard curiously, like it's the most far-fetched thing even to conceive. Miranda's silence is telling, because Darby's blue eyes light up and she grins broadly. "Not so cocky now, are you, Miss Lawson?" She teases laughingly when Miranda hits her with a pillow. Her eyes soften, however, and she looks serious when she says, "Last night…that stuff about Liara. About you. I meant what I said, you know."

The smile on Miranda's face is brilliant. "Good," she says. "The feeling's mutual." She laughs a little as Shepard tugs the covers further over them and starts nuzzling her throat. The laugh turns into a little pleased groan when the nuzzling becomes warm, soft kisses against her jawline. "We have work to do today, Commander," Miranda chastises, though her hands tangle in Darby's hair and she tilts her head back to expose her neck.

Shepard scoffs, pulling back a few inches and propping her head up with her hand as she leans on her elbow. "All work and no play makes Miranda a dull girl," she says alluringly. "Not to mention an undersexed one."

Laughing, Miranda replies innocently, "I'm only saying this as your second-in-command, _Commander_." She doesn't protest, however, when Shepard moves to straddle Miranda's hips and pin her hands above her head.

"Right," Darby nods. "But as my second-in-command, doesn't that mean you should be serving under me?" Her eyes drag pointedly down Miranda's body, pinned beneath hers.

"Something like that," Miranda says breathlessly, arching her head up so she can finally brush her lips against Shepard's. "I believe it's regulation 34.28C, section 9.25B."

Shepard laughs with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I don't think what I'm going to do to you is even in the regulation handbook…"

Many hours later, Miranda has to delightfully, exhaustedly agree. Because as much as she likes rules, she likes Darby's way of handling them infinitely more.


End file.
